Deductions of a Child
by fandombeforeblood
Summary: A series of one-shots that involve John and Mary's intellectual daughter bonding with her godfather-slash-uncle through teasing and murder cases.


_**So I'm just trying to relieve myself from the pain of waiting for s4. Here's John Watson's daughter and Sherlock 'bonding'. Tell me what you think!**_

_**hugs,**_

_**addy**_

* * *

_**Of Castor and Cookies**_

"Castor!"

The little girl chased her dog's wagging tail on the pavement, manoeuvring through the crowd of people heading the opposite direction. Her godfather trailed behind her slowly with hands in his pockets, an air of nonchalance along with him as he took long, slow, strides.

He hadn't really been worried of the situation, knowing that the dog was headed towards his flat anyways. But the girl had insisted chasing after the chocolate Labrador, telling him that if anything happened to her pup she wouldn't forgive him. He rolled his eyes at her and even allowed his pace to grow slower.

She pouted at him like the child she was and turned back to go through the massive amount of people passing by, determined to catch up with her dog. She raced past a frantic business worker balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and speaking to his boss with his phone on his shoulder and a heavy suitcase on his left hand. The man's eyes widened as the girl almost made him drop his coffee as she almost toppled him over, chasing after her dog.

There was also a teenage couple with entwined hands and lack of personal space; she just went in between them as if she were playing some sort of game. The couple sprung apart, gaping at the running girl before having a tall gangly figure in a long flowing coat and neat blue scarf glide in between them. He didn't give them a second glance and just did the same thing with the other idiots that his goddaughter disturbed.

"Mrs. Hudson," he rapped the door, knowing his keys were smartly stolen by his goddaughter again, "Open up! Shailene's got my keys!"

He sighed when the landlady came out several minutes late, wearing an apron because she just finished making some cookies for her adoptive granddaughter. Mrs. Hudson had merely smiled at him fondly, quickly stepping aside to let her tenant in before he pushed her aside with an obvious frown.

"Uncle Sherlock, what took you so long?" with an innocent smile, Shailene Watson looked up at her godfather from her dog-petting. Her Labrador, Castor, barked jovially in agreement from beside her.

Sherlock didn't reply, but he didn't hold back a comment either, "I told you he was heading towards here." He hung his coat on the rack and slipped his shoes off, walking towards the couch only in sock-clad feet after lying on it, hands tucked under his chin with eyes closed.

"But Uncle _Sher_, I was just worried about Castor. What if he got lost?"

Sherlock ignored the nickname and remained immobile before muttering, "He won't get lost, Shailene; I trained him myself. And about that hellhound case-"

"Laureli Montes did it. But really, I'm disappointed with you, Uncle. 'Thought you could do better than some murder case that was the effect of revenge," she cut him off before he could speak any more, still running a hand over Castor's fur.

Sherlock shrugged, palms together with eyes still shut, "You're six, Shailene. I was just testing you."

"Your first case was when you were five—just a year younger than I am right now,"

"But it wasn't my first _official _case,"

"You're changing the subject," she told him in a patronizing tone, rolling her eyes in such a grown up manner. Sherlock fought back the smile that tugged his lips when he heard Shailene's tone, his fondness over his best friend's daughter apparently taking over.

Speaking of his best friend, John Watson was late. The ex-army doctor was supposed to realize the lack of his own daughter's presence in his _own _home 40 minutes earlier. Sherlock sighed.

"Daddy's several minutes late, isn't he," Shailene said knowingly in-between bites of her homemade cookie from Mrs. Hudson on one hand as she rubbed Castor the puppy's ear with the other.

"He trusts me too much."

"I trust you too much, Uncle Sherlock,"

Silently, he agreed. He moved, lying on his side, his back meeting her amused expression as she took another cookie. _And I to you_, Sherlock thought silently, settling into sleep.


End file.
